Squeaky Clean
by SoThere
Summary: Katniss experiences confusing new feelings when she helps her injured best friend. Modern AU inspired by the Everlark Drabble Challenge prompt from anais117: Katniss or Peeta recovering from surgery and the other helping them bathe.


"I can do this. I can _do_ this. I'm a grown woman, for heaven's sake."

"Katniss?"

The muffled sound of my best friend's voice floats through the bathroom door. I give myself one more mental pep talk in the mirror before responding. "Yep. All set."

The door seems to weigh a thousand pounds as I push it slowly open to face my fate.

Peeta watches me from the edge of my bed, shirt open and unbuttoned. His pants are folded neatly beside him, and his white socks are slouched around his ankles.

"I'm sorry. You wouldn't think a little thing like _socks_ would bring a man to his knees, but I just couldn't do it by myself." The sheepish look on his face reminds me why I'm doing this, and I feel the tension abate slightly.

"Don't worry about it." I cross the room and kneel down before him to remove his socks. Next I stand up and help him shrug his shirt off the massive cast on his right arm. The sleeve catches on the second cast on his left wrist as I tug it off completely.

_My god, have his abs always been this tight?_

"Ahem. So I got the water all set up. We can just head in now, if you want…"

He looks down at his black boxer briefs. "Aren't you gonna help me get these off first?" My eyes widen in panic, and he immediately laughs. "I'm kidding! Sheesh Katniss, you should have seen your face. You're so pure."

I give him a gentle shove toward the bathroom. He's all firm muscle, taut skin, and warm. _So warm._ "Whatever, killer. Just get in there."

He moves into the bathroom and attempts to brace himself so he can climb into the tub, but can't seem to get a stable grip. I lend an arm and steady him as he lowers himself into the tub. I move a stool closer to the tub so that he lean his large cast on it, then kneel down beside him.

"I really appreciate your help with this, Katniss. I would have stayed disgusting for the next six weeks if it wasn't for you."

Watching as the water ripples over his chiseled body, I can't help but think his definition of _disgusting_ is a little different than mine.

"Don't worry about it. That's what best friends are for, right?" His pecs catch my eye and I have an incredible urge to reach out and run my fingers across them. "God, it's kind of hot in here, isn't it? Maybe I should open a window or something…"

"It's actually a little cold," Peeta chuckles. _Oh god his nipples are hard._ _Don't look there again!_ "We should probably get this show on the road, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, right. Sorry." I look over to the soap and shampoo I'd gathered beside the tub. "So, um, what do you prefer? Hair first? Or…"

"Sure, yeah. Hair is good. It's getting all greasy. That's what happens when I let it grow out like this."

I grab a cup and fill it with water. "Okay, just –" I take a minute to assess the situation. "Why don't you lean forward a bit? That way the extra water won't run down your shoulders."

"Good idea." He pulls himself up to a sit and tucks his head down a bit. I pour the water over his head slowly, dampening his blond curls. They darken as the water flattens them. I refill the cup two more times and repeat until his head is sufficiently wet.

"Okay, all set. Just gonna wash it now. I hope you don't mind lavender."

"No, I don't mind at all. I love your shampoo," he answers with a smile.

I squeeze some of the soap into my hand and start to massage it into his head. His hair is soft and silky under my fingertips, so unlike my own coarser strands. I wash it carefully and scratch his head lightly with my nails. He lets out a small groan that goes straight to my core.

"My god, Katniss. That feels so good. Can you just keep doing that for the rest of my life?"

I laugh nervously as I pull my hands away and reach for the cup. "As much as I'd like to, I've got to work tomorrow, so that probably wouldn't work out."

I fill the cup again and prepare to rinse him. "Close your eyes." I stare at his lashes, so long and curly, as he patiently waits for me. "Ready?" I ask in a quiet voice.

"Mmm-hmm."

I pour the water over his head, needing several attempts to get all of the soap out. The water running down the planes of his back is mesmerizing.

"Uh – Katniss?"

"Hmm?" I'm pulled from my daydream, cup still held mid-air.

"Can I open my eyes now?"

I put the cup down and dry my hands on my lap. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. Yup. All done with your hair."

He reclines back against the tub and looks at me. "Are you okay? Maybe it is too hot in here. You're all flushed."

My hands fly to my cheeks. "Am I? Must be from all the steam. I'm fine."

I reach for the washcloth and my bottle of body wash. "Should I…?"

He swallows and nods. "Please."

I wet the cloth and squeeze some soap in, squeezing it slightly to create a lather. I move down to his feet, figuring I should get the extremities taken care of first. I gently begin to clean his toes and heels.

"Harder."

My head snaps back to find his blue eyes watching me. "What?"

He grins. "My feet are ticklish. The slower you go, the worse it is."

"Oh." Of course that's what he meant. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry. _I'm_ sorry." He sighs heavily. "I wish I'd never hit that pothole. This must be so weird for you."

"Stop it. After all you've done for me over the years, it's the least I can do." I laugh. "Besides, I've tried to warn you about the hazards of exercise before. It's a dangerous business."

I wash each leg, careful not to reinjure the large scab on his kneecap. I quickly wipe down his thighs, avoiding the skin near the hem of his shorts, but he still twitches slightly under my fingers.

I add some more soap before moving to his abdomen, trying to ignore the dark trail of hair heading down the center. I clean under his arms, getting as close as I can to the casts without getting them wet. As I clean under his neck, he scrunches his shoulders and smiles at me. "That tickles, too."

"You're such a baby, Mellark," I laugh. "Lean forward and I'll get your back." He leans forward again and I swipe back and forth down his spine. Sprinkles of freckles pepper his smooth, pale skin.

"All done," I announce as I sit back on my haunches. "But now comes the hard part… Getting you out of this tub in one piece."

Together, we lift his dripping body into a stand and finally out of the tub onto the bath mat. I grab a fluffy towel and start to dry him off. Starting at his feet, I work my way up his body again until we're face-to-face. His gaze is piercing as I dry his chest and back.

With a smaller towel, I wipe at his hair, damp tendrils forming curls around his ears. I find myself studying his face; there's a bit of blood beneath his ear from shaving with his left hand this morning. Despite the five-o'clock-shadow, he looks as boyish as he did the day we first met, decades before.

"Um… I should probably get dressed…" he says. _Was I daydreaming again? How long was I staring?_

"Right, sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me tonight." I step out to give him some privacy and close the door gently behind me.

Plopping on the edge of my bed, I bury my face in my hands. What the hell is the matter with me? Peeta is my best friend, but I can't stop thinking about every inch of his body, and how it would feel beneath me, above me, inside me…

"Sorry, I got you all wet."

I look up to see Peeta standing in front of me. "_What_?!"

He points to a large water spot on the front of my shirt. "Must have been from leaning into the tub. You should probably get out of that."

"Oh, right." I pull the t-shirt off over my head, leaving just my gray tank top, then move to my dresser to look for another shirt.

"You don't have to do that!" he insists, voice cracking slightly. "I mean –" He clears his throat. "You were so warm before. Don't feel like you have to cover up on my account."

I turn to face him and realize he's still shirtless, a pair of blue plaid flannel pants slung low around his hips. Best friend or not, there's no denying how beautiful he is.

"Okay." I move back to him. "Did you, uh, need help with your shirt?"

"Yes, please."

He hands me the button-down, our fingers grazing with a spark of electricity. I slide the shirt on each arm carefully and slowly fasten each button, leaving the last two undone. I straighten out the collar and look up to find his eyes studying me. "Good as new."

He smiles. "Thanks to you."

My hands are still at his neck, so I smooth out the collar one last time before reluctantly pulling them away.

"So." Neither of us makes a move to step away from the other. "What do you think? Would you mind doing this again next Sunday?" he asks hopefully.

The smell of my shampoo mixed with the lingering cologne on his clothes is familiar and comforting. Everything about this makes sense.

I nod and match his beaming grin. "I'll allow it."


End file.
